


Poisoned

by DarkestElemental616



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Fanart, Matchmaker Ra's al Ghul, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 06:05:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17074793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkestElemental616/pseuds/DarkestElemental616
Summary: Tim doesn't feel well after a party. Damian gets worried.





	Poisoned

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [n/a](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/441983) by Kaciart. 



Tim wasn’t sure how it had happened. He’d been at one of the Christmas charity balls hosted by Wayne Enterprises, mingling with the guests and exchanging smiles and pleasantries. The next moment, he’d felt someone brush by him. He caught a vague glimpse of green eyes and white skin before whoever it was was swallowed by the crowd.

Perhaps it had been the muzziness caused by several nights’ worth of lost sleep combined with the champagne that failed to raise his suspicions. He took a sip from his glass, frowning a little at the taste. It seemed to be a…bad…vintage…

His glass smashed to the floor, followed by his body, which suddenly felt like it weighed  _tons_. Tim let out a small cry of distress. He couldn’t move. His vision was fading in and out, and vaguely he heard gunfire and screams.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before his head started to clear. The noises had mostly stopped, though he could still hear loud talking. Weirdly, one of the voices sounded like…

Strong arms wrapped around his waist and wrists, helping him to his feet.

“Are you okay, Mr. Wayne?”

That voice sounded  _really_  familiar. Who was it?

“W-what happened?” he croaked, clutching at the man who was the only thing keeping him from ending up on the floor again. It felt odd, being on the receiving end of a rescue for once–at least, one that he actually  _needed_  help with.

“Your drink was spiked.” Tim’s vision was starting to clear. He could see red and black…Nightwing? What was Dick doing here? “Can you walk?”

“I-I think…” He swayed, feeling another wave of dizziness wash over him. “Wh-who would…?”

Nightwing frowned, his hold tightening protectively. “Let’s get you looked at. Batman’s got things covered here.”

“B-but…”

“No buts.” Nightwing practically dragged him out of the room. They needed to get back to the Cave right away and find out just what Tim had been hit with. And who was after him.

“Tt. This ‘heist’ was clearly a setup,” Robin growled, watching his oldest brother escort the Pretender out. “The original target was Drake, set up to  _look_  like a distraction.”

“Maybe.” Batman’s eyes were narrowed, and Damian felt a pang of jealousy at how clearly concerned his father was. “I’d prefer it if someone merely poisoned him as a distraction for this, rather than set up a false robbery. But if it isn’t…”

His expression said it all. There would be hell to pay for going after Tim.

* * *

Once they’d gotten back to the Cave, Dick had immediately started running a full battery of tests on Tim, trying to figure out what had been slipped into his drink. Tim himself was feeling too ill to do anything but sit there dumbly, swaying as he tried not to pass out. Several times, Dick had to shake his shoulder to ensure that Tim really was awake.

“You really shouldn’t fall asleep just yet,” Dick warned him after the fifth time (or was it the twentieth? He’d lost count) that Tim’s eyes had shut of their own accord.

“I know,” Tim mumbled in response, shaking his head slightly to clear it.

The Batmobile roaring in an indeterminable amount of time later did a better job of waking him up than Dick did. Both of them jumped; clearly Bruce had been in a hurry.

Or so they thought.

Damian was the one who hopped out of the driver’s seat, striding towards them. He looked  _pissed_. “It was Grandfather,” he said shortly. “He won’t say what he used, but he did state it wasn’t fatal, at the very least.”

“Wait…what?” Tim’s brain seemed to be stuffed full of wool as he tried to process this. “He…he was…there? He talked to you?”

“Tt. He  _contacted_  me on the comm.” Damian’s cape snapped as he turned suddenly, pacing in an angry circle around Dick and Tim. “Grayson, we will need to change the codes for that channel. In the meantime, you will be incapacitated, Drake, but it is nothing to worry about. You should go to bed and rest until the toxins wear–” He cut off as Tim finally lost his battle to stay conscious, toppling forward off of the medical table. The teenager and Dick barely managed to catch him.

“…All right,” Dick said firmly once they’d gotten Tim on the table again. “I’ll take him upstairs. You contact B, see where he is and get those codes changed.”

“No.” Damian’s eyes were fierce and insistent. “I will tend to Drake. Father is attempting to track down Grandfather as we speak, and you are currently in the middle of an analysis. Ra’s al Ghul doesn’t always speak the truth, and I would rather be certain that the toxins are indeed nonfatal.”

Before Dick could respond, Damian had picked Tim up and started carrying him towards the elevator.

Tim stirred slightly as they headed towards the second floor. “D'mian?”

“You should be  _resting_ , Drake.”

“…I know…”

“Then kindly sleep before I make you sleep,” Damian said shortly. “Otherwise Grayson and Pennyworth will worry about you.”

Tim managed a faint nod before allowing himself to drift off.

Damian put Tim to bed, wrestling him under the covers. For a moment, he stared at the idiot. The Pretender. The man his father had decided to adopt for reasons unknown. The one his grandfather seemed to admire the most of all of the Robins for some reason.

“How the hell did he manage to get at you,” Damian mused. He checked Tim for a temperature out of sheer habit, finding no signs of fever or sweating. Whatever the poison used, Ra’s had certainly seemed to be honest about it. Thus far the only visible effect had been a drain on Tim’s energy. “And why?”

Tim couldn’t answer, of course, so Damian simply settled in a nearby chair to begin his vigil.


End file.
